


Wholesome Vernonposting: A Family Man's Tale

by Tranquil_Tevene



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Crack, Memes, Wholesome Vernon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:27:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27783727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tranquil_Tevene/pseuds/Tranquil_Tevene
Summary: We all know the story of how the Dursleys treated Harry abysmally. But what if, this time, that's not entirely the case? Introducing Uncle V, a man who will go to any lengths protecting his nephew.
Comments: 20
Kudos: 48





	1. How They Met

**Author's Note:**

> Join Wholesome Vernonposting on FB if you use that platform! It's a group dedicated to Uncle V and some of the memes are golden! https://www.facebook.com/groups/2708636989449671

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the start of a tale, one which promises an Uncle and Nephew bond stronger than ever before.

Vernon truly loved Petunia. However, she made her hatred of the Potters clear, a family he had no issues with and sometimes, her vitriol was tiring for him. But she forgot any lingering bitterness for a few short months when his pride and joy, Dudley, arrived. Then along came that fateful night. One which tore a family apart, but brought a welcome addition to the family he already loved.

“AHHHH!”

Shooting faster out of bed than ever before, Vernon rushed down the stairs, huffing and puffing with effort and skidding to the front door.

“Petunia?!” Vernon shouted, his reddened face paling with the possibilities that rushed through his mind.

Shakily she took a step back, one bony, wavering finger pointing at a cloth bundle on their doorstep. “It’s _him._ ”

“Who?” he questioned, finally noticing the source of her fear besides their bottle of delivered milk.

“Potter,” Petunia spat, looking at the bundle with disgust. “I haven’t seen their spawn in months, but I’d recognise him anywhere.”

Harry? But what was he doing here? Noticing a letter tucked into the bundle, Vernon took it, handing it over to Petunia. “He can’t be here without good reason, see what that letter says.”

Gingerly accepting it and scanning the contents, he turned back to the matter at hand, bending over and carefully picking up the swaddled child. Holding him in the same learned position as with his son. Somehow, Harry hadn’t woken up from Petunia’s scream. But what did gently jostle him was the warmth of human contact.

Looking down into his nephew’s face, he realised that shamefully, this was the first time that he’d properly met him. With a shock of jet black hair sticking up in every direction, Vernon ignored his instinct to smooth it flat. But, once Harry opened his eyes, everything else seemed to fade. Thrown back to his son’s birth, Vernon had never seen such a vivid green. They were like Lily’s but brighter, innocent.

For a moment, Vernon forgot everything he’d heard Petunia say. His heart beating anew, it swelled with affection for the baby nestled in his arms. They’d only just met, yet the desire to protect Harry from harm rose within him. 

“They’re dead.”

With Petunia’s emotionless utterance, Vernon was quickly pulled from the trance he’d fallen into. 

“Lily and James?” he asked for clarification, despite knowing the answer in his heart.

“Yes,” she replied, her eyes glinting coolly. “Dumbledore dumped him on our doorstep, asking us to raise Potter. The nerve! If I knew how to contact him without magic,” she sneered, “I would. Well, I’m not having it! I’ll ring the orphanages, and one of them can have him.” 

Why on earth would the old fool leave a child outside? Anything could have happened, not to mention how cold it was. 

Then, Petunia’s words sank in and thoughtlessly, he protested. “But Petunia dear, wouldn’t it be better to look after him ourselves?”

“Vernon!” Petunia screeched, quietening some with her husband’s hasty hand gesture.

“I know you don’t want him. But what if Dumbledore and his magical friends visit? If they found out we gave him away, they might curse us.”

Petunia blanched. “Yes, I bet they would, especially that disgusting Snape. And the protection...”

Silently mulling over this information, she handed the letter to Vernon. “... Very well, we’ll keep him. Dispose of this.”

As she hurried back inside with the milk, Vernon stood there for a moment. It was now, more than ever, that he realised just how deep his wife’s hatred ran.

Scanning the letter’s contents, Vernon vowed to do right by Lily and James as best he could. Surely after spending time with Harry, Petunia would warm to him? Regardless, he promised to himself he’d treat his nephew no different from Dudley.

* * *

Unfortunately, Petunia didn’t warm to Harry. Doing the bare minimum to care for him and lavishing every ounce of love and affection upon Dudley, she left it to Vernon, where he could, to provide what she refused to. Harry often pitched in with the housework and, to Vernon’s pride and her displeasure, was above average in development. While Petunia didn’t want to tell him about the wizarding world, Vernon convinced her it was for the best and by the age of 11, shared what little he knew. 

Relaxing at home, Vernon reclined into the armchair. While enjoying work, it was moments like this he savoured. Picking up the remote, he channel surfed until Harry entered the living room. Standing in front of him with expectant, wide green eyes hidden behind smart frames, he held a letter out. “Uncle Vernon, will you check this for me?”

“Of course.” Placing the remote down, Vernon put his reading glasses on and scanned the letter.

_Professor McGonagall,_

_Thank you for your kind invitation to attend Hogwarts, however, I must respectfully decline. I plan to study at a non-magical school, but I’m sure we’ll meet one day, as I want to see the world that my parents once lived in._

_Yours Sincerely,_

_Harry Potter._

Vernon nodded approvingly, handing the letter back. “Excellent work. Remember, first impressions are everything.”

Blushing with pride, he nodded seriously. “Yes, Uncle Vernon, I’ll remember that.”

As Harry left the living room to seal his letter and find the postal owl awaiting a reply, Vernon sighed in relief. He didn’t like the idea of him attending a school run by the same man who thought leaving babies on doorsteps was a good idea. While he wouldn’t have stopped his nephew from attending if that’s what he truly wanted, they’d already discussed it in-depth earlier and he seemed happy to join Smeltings with Dudley.

After that, they didn’t dwell on the letter, content in getting on with their lives.

Until days later, when something odd happened.

Opening up a carton of eggs, Vernon blinked when seeing a rolled up bit of parchment somehow wedged into there. Unrolling it and reading the envelope, he frowned when seeing another Hogwarts invitation letter.

 _‘Harry’s reply must be delayed,’_ Vernon thought, throwing the letter away but wondering how on earth it got there.

However, it didn’t stop. Over the next few days, they found several identical letters in the post, the bathroom, the living room, their means of delivery mostly unexplained. But it was when hundreds of letters flew through their fireplace in a rain of parchment that he had enough.

“That’s it!” he snapped, his face turning puce coloured. “We’ll go far away, where they can’t find us!”

Studying the parchment-filled room, Harry frowned worriedly. “How long do you think that will take?”

“I don’t know,” Vernon admitted, calming down after seeing the look on his nephew’s face. “But magic or not, they won’t have the upper hand! Pack the essentials, we’ll leave now.”

While Petunia remained tight-lipped and Harry did as asked, Vernon explained to Dudley why his TV wasn’t classed as essential. After advising him on what was, he had a purchase in mind. It was clear these wizarding folk were the persistent sort, and as he didn’t have any magic to fight back with, other means were necessary.

* * *

On July 30th, 11:55, Harry finished drawing a birthday cake into the dust-laden ground. Nothing had gone as any of them expected, especially having to leave Privet Drive for a dilapidated hut in the sea’s middle. While his life wasn’t perfect, in that world Aunt Petunia would love him, he still had Uncle Vernon and Dudley when away from her influence. As the clock struck midnight, Harry was about to blow out his makeshift candles, when a familiar voice disrupted him.

“Happy Birthday, Harry.”

Looking up and squinting through the dim lighting, Vernon lit a candle which illuminated their immediate area. In his hand was a wrapped present.

“You remembered?” Harry asked him in amazement, blinking.

A rare smile crossed Vernon’s expression. “Of course I did, you’re my favourite nephew.”

“I’m your only nephew,” Harry pointed out, rolling his eyes. “I just thought with how weird everything’s been lately, that you’d have forgotten.”

Lowering his eyes guiltily, Vernon slowly joined him on the floor. “I remembered your present, but I forgot the cake. How about a late birthday celebration after we leave here?”

Nodding his head happily, Harry carefully unwrapped the present. Inside was a golden watch, with hints of black on its face. Admiring how it shone in the faint candlelight, he looked at Vernon with gratitude. “Thanks, it’s brilliant!”

“That, Harry, is a Grand Seiko watch. It’s one of the finest ever made and a mark of good taste and adulthood. You’re growing into a fine young man, one that I’m proud to call my nephew.”

While his uncle was never one for overly affectionate words, it only made occasions like this more special. Once secured onto his wrist, he found its slight weight a comforting addition.

Reaching over, Harry hugged him briefly. “I’ll treasure it.”

Patting him on the back, they withdrew from one another as he watched his nephew blow out the makeshift candles.

The moment that happened, there was an almighty **CRASH** , not thunderstorm related. As the hut door was blown off its hinges, Vernon staggered up and rushed to his most recent purchase, his heart beating rapidly.

“Vernon, what’s happening?!” Petunia cried, appearing and holding onto a scared Dudley.

“I don’t know. Everyone, stand behind me!” Vernon ordered, loading his double-barrelled shotgun purposefully. 

Framed in the doorway was a silhouette of the largest man Vernon had ever seen. As he stooped down considerably to let himself in, his gasp was lost among Petunia’s shrieks and Dudley’s whimpering. He had to be 7, no, 8 feet tall?

So shocked was Vernon, he nearly dropped his shotgun, flabbergasted throughout the door being put right and the intruder’s facial features growing clearer.

Possessing a shaggy, black beard and dark twinkling eyes, he looked at them remorsefully. “Sorry abou’ tha.”

As if the voice shook Vernon from his stupor, he aimed his shotgun at him. “Who are you and what do you want?”

“Easy there, Dursley, I don’ mean any harm.” He held his hands up. “I’m Hagrid, I just came teh give Arry his Hogwarts letter.”

Harry cocked his head quizzically. “But I’ve already had a letter, I sent my rejection reply the same day.”

Suddenly, Vernon found the tip of a pink umbrella aimed at him. “Why’d yeh make him write tha, ey? Arry, not going teh Hogwarts? Impossible!”

Vernon bristled with righteous indignation. “How dare you, I would never do that! One more word and I won’t be responsible for my actions.”

Feeling the tensions rise, Harry hastily butted in. “He’s telling the truth. We talked about it, and I decided not to.”

After hearing that, Hagrid visibly deflated while lowering his pink umbrella. Cautiously, Vernon did the same with his shotgun.

Silently, he watched as Hagrid removed a squashed package from his coat, presenting it to Harry as a birthday cake who, surprised but happily, divided it into five slices. Because of the late hour, Dudley and Petunia went back to sleep and after ensuring he’d be fine, Vernon joined them.

The next morning, Hagrid cooking breakfast awoke them in a pan that they swore was never there previously. And while eating, he made a proposal.

“Arry, why don’ yeh give Hogwarts a trial run? Magic ain’t easy to control withou’ learning how.”

Harry thoughtfully mulled his words over. “I guess you’re right. But if in the end, I decide not to go, could I be homeschooled?”

Hagrid nodded. “I don’ see why not.”

“What do you think, Uncle?”

Truthfully, Vernon would rather he be away from all that magical business. But then, he hadn’t considered what it would do to Harry if he left his magic untrained.

Withholding a sigh, Vernon studied him seriously. “The decision is yours, and regardless, I’ll support you. While I prefer the world we know, I suppose there is an intrigue of the unknown.”

“No!” Petunia shrieked, making everyone jump. “Go to that freakish place and learn more magic from that old fool? Absolutely not!”

Having learned that Hagrid kept the broken parts of his wand hidden in the pink umbrella, Vernon hastily interjected while eyeing Hagrid’s large twitching hands. “But if he doesn’t, we can’t guarantee there won’t be a repeat incident of what happened with Dudley. Or worse,” he added, feeling a little guilty for using his son in this manner.

“Dad—” Dudley protested, promptly cut off when Petunia squeezed the life out of him.

“Not my precious Diddykins! Fine. However, I want nothing to do with any of it, do you understand?” she glared at Harry.

“Yes, Aunt Petunia,” Harry replied as his eyes glimmered sadly.

“Righ!” Hagrid clapped his hands. “We’d best be off then. I’ll help yeh get yer school things from Diagon Alley.”

Before they left, Vernon asked Harry to wait outside and, unconcerned with their height difference, pointed a pudgy finger at Hagrid. “I’m trusting you to look after him. If so much as a hair is harmed on that boy’s head, I’ll shove your umbrella where the sun never shines.”

“Don’ worry Dursley, I’ll look after ‘im.”

Once satisfied, Vernon let them go. It was time they all headed home as well, away from this sea-worn hut.

* * *

On September 1st, once given the appropriate ticket, Vernon drove Harry to King’s Cross station. Before Hagrid left, he got every ounce of information from him, so they weren’t floundering on the day.

Standing between platforms 9 and 10 with Harry, Vernon narrowed his eyes. “They don’t look any different, but I believe he’s telling the truth. We have time, let’s see if anyone else needs to go this way.”

“What about that family?” Harry pointed to a cluster of redheads. “They have an Owl too.”

Reminded of Hedwig, the newest addition to his family, it was the last thing Vernon expected him to return with. However, he didn’t mind too much, as she was certainly fascinating. Before all this, he’d never seen one so close.

“Yes, I’m sure they’ll be able to help us.” Approaching the redheaded woman, he politely cleared his throat. “Excuse me, madam, but could you confirm how we enter platform 9 ¾?”

As he caught her attention, she smiled warmly. “Of course! You just run straight at the wall. Fred, would you show them?”

“He’s not Fred, I am!” another identical boy protested. “Honestly, you call yourself our mother?”

Silently watching their exchange, Harry grinned and after the demonstration, joined Fred who was shortly and hesitantly followed by Vernon. Harmlessly passing through and met with the Hogwarts Express, he was unsure if the novelty of this other world would ever wear off.

Proving to be equally busy on this platform, more witches and wizards, returning and new students were saying goodbye to their parents or guardians. It was time for Vernon to do the same.

Resting his hands on Harry’s shoulders, blue eyes locked with green, like so many years ago. “If you have any problems, tell me. I might not have magic, but I’m willing to bet I know things this lot don’t. I want to hear all about what this Hogwarts place is like.”

Harry nodded seriously. “I will, promise.”

As the Hogwarts Express blew its last whistle, Harry glanced towards it, then back at Vernon. “I have to go now, but I’ll see you soon.”

Knowing as much already, he released his nephew’s shoulders. Stepping onto the train with everyone else, he found a compartment overlooking the platform and as it pulled away, Vernon waved to Harry long after it faded into the distance.

He’d never had him or Dudley away from home for so long and already, a pang of loss expanded within his chest.

“I know how you feel. Every year I have seen my children off at this platform and every year, I miss their presence just as much.”

Turning to the redheaded woman he’d briefly spoken with, Vernon managed a sad smile. “And I’m sure if every year, I’ll feel the same as well.”

As she reached out to give him a friendly shoulder squeeze, her warmth travelled up his arm, soothing his heart somewhat. “I’m Molly Weasley.”

“Vernon Dursley, it’s good to meet you.”

After shaking hands and being introduced to her husband, Vernon had the feeling that this family would become more than just acquaintances.


	2. Vernon Dursley and That Bloody Stone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Harry's first, action-packed year at Hogwarts. And of course, everything is livelier with wholesome Uncle V around!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This won't be a long fic. I'm planning to have snippets from each year that are manageable chunks, but written in a way that if I have other ideas, I can go back to that year and add something in :) just a little crack and wholesomeness to lighten up the awful year 2020 and now 2021 has been for us.

During Harry’s time at Hogwarts, Vernon had several letters detailing the extraordinary. Moving staircases, ghosts, talking portraits, mountain trolls, it was all difficult to comprehend. He was happy that while there, he’d made new friends as well.

Today was Harry’s first quidditch match. Hearing how he accidentally joined the team, what followed was an explanation of it and a two-way portkey supplied by the Headmaster.

15 minutes before the match, Vernon finished dressing. Given a red and gold scarf by Harry, it wrapped snugly around his neck paired with a red sweater. First impressions were important, but why not show support as well?

Giving himself the once-over, he went to find Petunia and spun on the spot. “What do you think?”

“It would be better without that ridiculous scarf.” She studied it like a loathsome insect. “But you do look handsome.”

Once seeing the small, hesitant smile Vernon loved, she came over and pecked him on the cheek. “... Be careful. I’ll never understand why you want to be anywhere near magic, but I won’t stop you.”

Appreciating her acceptance, even if reluctantly, he promised to keep his wits about him and activated his portkey to Hogwarts’ quidditch pitch. 

“What the devil?!” Vernon tried speaking, but the words couldn’t leave him. This, more than anything, was the most unpleasant sensation he’d experienced to date. 

As his feet touched the solid ground he overbalanced, hitting the grass with a **whump.** After righting himself, Vernon didn’t notice the stares, too preoccupied with his surroundings. Seeing it in person, he realised no descriptions did it justice, as its splendour was breathtaking.

“Hello, are you a parent?”

Distracted from his admiration, he recognised the curly red-headed boy as one of the Weasley sons, a prefect badge secured to his robes. Eventually recognising him in turn, he had a quill and parchment in hand.

“Oh yes, I recognise you. Potter’s Uncle.” Nodding to himself and writing something down, he gestured for Vernon to follow.

“That’s Harry Potter’s Uncle?”

“Where?”

While aware of his nephew’s celebrity-like status here, Vernon hadn’t thought about the same being extended to him. Unconcerned, he politely smiled and nodded, making his way up. By no means was he athletic, so once they reached the visitor’s stand, he gratefully collapsed in the nearest available seat. After a shattered farewell, he was just recovering when someone addressed him.

“Vernon, it’s nice to see you again.” 

Glancing over, it turned out that by accident; he sat near Arthur and Molly Weasley. Remembering that some of their sons were on the team too, he engaged them in light conversation until the match was underway.

“Look at that formation! Spinnet passes to Bell, back to Spinnet who feints left and… scores! Ten points to Gryffindor!”

“YES!” Vernon cheered, not remembering when he’d stood up, removed his scarf and held it above like some holy relic.

This was the sport of kings. Sometimes he liked to watch football, but seeing over a dozen people airborne, which could be tracked by things called omnioculars, was thrilling beyond description. Thrilling, until the moment he witnessed Harry losing control of his broom. As though jerked around by an invisible string, Vernon’s heart stopped when he fell off, hanging by a hand.

“Help him, damn you!” he bellowed, death gripping the bannister in front.

Either his broom had malfunctioned, or someone else was doing this. If the latter, God help whoever they were. After several agonising moments, he plonked back into his seat when Harry eventually regained control and once more searched for the snitch. Not taking his eyes off the action for a second, Vernon’s throat grew hoarse with the amount of clapping and cheering he was doing.

When Harry caught the snitch with his mouth, of all things, and Gryffindor announced the winner, Vernon’s victory shout rang through the air.

“THAT’S MY NEPHEW!”

Feeling youthful, Vernon swung his scarf around as Fred and George lifted Harry onto theit shoulders.

As the visitors were leaving, he bounded down the stairs, ignoring the strain in his leg muscles and closer to the pitch. Catching Harry’s eye with his biggest smile to date, he waved enthusiastically.

When Harry grinned and waved back, Vernon would remember this moment. It was their first quidditch match, as participants and spectators. Seeing this as a much-needed mood improver with his absence at home, he would attend every match possible.

* * *

February 12th, 1992. Time was flying by and while Vernon doubted Harry’s safety there, he at least knew Hagrid would watch out for him. But there was still the matter of ‘Professor’ Snape. While Vernon was sure his qualifications were valid, that didn’t mean he could teach children. Well, no more. Today was parents’ evening and, while there, he would complain about the treatment towards his nephew he’d heard so much about.

While Vernon had seen the quidditch pitch, he’d yet to see inside Hogwarts. Dressed in a smart business suit with his slicked-back hair and moustache, he had to admit that despite his school pride, Smeltings couldn’t hold a candle to Hogwarts. Having arrived at the school by portkey again, he stood outside the Great Hall’s entrance waiting with the other parents. To Vernon’s confusion, there were more people gathered in one spot than he could count, and yet, there was no crowding. Magic?

As a ‘muggle’ surrounded by witches and wizards, Vernon was itching to bring some physical self-defence. He understood wands were weapons with unlimited ammunition and, he did feel vulnerable. Trying not to let those thoughts show outwardly, the double doors opened and with staff supervision, gradually admitted parents inside.

As Vernon glanced skyward, he saw a replica of the weather outside. But this time there was only the staff table, with most sitting there as every house banner fluttered in the slight breeze. Overwhelmed, he didn’t know where to look first, trying to take it all in.

“Marvellous,” he muttered, blue eyes alight with intrigue.

“Attention, this evening will begin on a rotation basis, so I ask for your patience.”

Looking towards the voice’s direction, he recognised Professor McGonagall, Harry’s head of house. Appearing a strict, no-nonsense woman with her hair tied back into a tight bun, Vernon thought that this was one woman he didn’t want to cross. Going where instructed to, he waited for his and Harry’s turn.

Speaking of Harry, where was he? As Vernon scanned the room, his eyes landed on a pair near to him.

From Petunia’s descriptions, he recognised Snape immediately. Hovering over his nephew like a dark storm cloud, Vernon immediately made his way over. While the noise was loud, it all seemed muted by what he began hearing.

“But Sir—” Harry protested, his green eyes wavering with emotion.

“But nothing, Potter.” Professor Snape coldly cut him off. “You expect me to lie about your recent assignment grade? Not only is that an untrue reflection of your performance, but wholly deserved.”

“You were standing behind me for so long that I got nervous and messed up! You wouldn’t let me try again, so it wasn’t deserved,” Harry argued, his fists balled up.

The Professor leaned closer, his eyes flashing angrily. “You arrogant little brat! 20 points from Gryffindor and detention, tomorrow night.”

Vernon’s eyes widened in disbelief. Is _this_ who Dumbledore was keeping in employment?

And then, the gravity of his words settled in. Like a blazing ball of all-consuming fire, a vein throbbed in Vernon’s temple, flushed with righteous rage.

“How dare you speak to him like that!” he shouted, angrily storming over.

“Uncle Vernon?” Harry squeaked, so surprised by the sudden outburst that he quickly back stepped as if sensing the imminent danger.

“Don’t worry Harry, I’ll sort this slimeball out,” Vernon reassured, his insult kick-starting the Professor’s temple vein.

“Ah, Mr Dursley.” He gave Vernon the once over, looking at him disdainfully. “I see where Potter gets his appalling mannerisms from.”

“Appalling mannerisms?” Vernon snorted. “So intimidating and insulting your students is a good example?”

Glaring at him with every ounce of hatred that fuelled his heart, Vernon invaded his personal space with one swift stride. “One more insult to my nephew, and you’ll wish you’d never been born.”

Professor Snape sneered, immediately dismissing his threat. “And what can a bloated muggle possibly do to an adult wizard?”

Oh, he was about to find out.

Casually backing up, it was enough to raise the Professor’s guard. However, no guard could prepare anyone for what happened next.

“This.”

With that one word, Vernon was off, running as fast as possible and slamming into him with his jelly-like gut. Unprepared for a physical assault, it knocked him back several feet, collapsing into a heap by the staff table.

As gasps rang throughout the hall, parents’ evening was put on temporary hold as staff, visitors and students alike frozen immobile by this unbelievable sight.

But he wasn’t finished yet. Taken back to his wrestling days, he would try one of his favourite moves: The Diver’s Splash. With some effort, he managed to stand on the table bench, creaking beneath his weight. Facing his recovering opponent, Vernon jumped off, belly-flopping onto Professor Snape and forcing all the air from his lungs. Now wheezing, more colour drained from his already pale body as Madam Pomfrey rushed over. 

Vernon moved off him with some parting words. “That’s what a muggle can do.”

For several seconds, everyone watched as Vernon’s victim was levitated onto a stretcher, hurriedly carried away by the Mediwitch. 

“Uncle V, he’s our man, if he can’t do it, no one can!” 

Snapping everyone out of their semi stupor, Fred and George began chanting as most students, including Harry, joined in, grinning from ear to ear. 

Needless to say, parents’ evening went on longer than expected, as it took several fired flashbangs to silence students. But eventually, everything went as planned and, as expected, received glowing reports about his nephew in most subjects. His disinterest in some was understandable, as was his adventurous spirit after hours. If in his position, Vernon would do the same.

Professor Snape made it back after a while as well, and unsurprisingly, his reports were less colourful than previous years. Satisfied, Vernon returned home with confidence that Professor Snape wouldn’t be stepping out of line again soon.

* * *

_Uncle V,_

_I hope you’re all ok. Do you know how trouble always finds me? Well, I have more._

_Do you remember the Philosopher’s Stone? Well, me, Ron and Hermione think Snape is going to steal it. We tried telling Professor McGonagall, but she wouldn’t listen and Professor Dumbledore is away. So, I think we’ll have to take matters into our own hands._

_I’ll write again soon,_

_Harry_

Of all the letters so far, this one worried Vernon the most. His nephew had never been one to sit idly by and when intending to do something, he was serious.

By now Hedwig was used to their writing habits and when at Privet Drive, through Harry’s advice, he had the appropriate food and water available before she set off back to Scotland. And though he’d written a letter back expressing his concern, he had the feeling that this would all be in vain.

The next day it proved his gut feeling right when there was a knock on the door. As Vernon finished up his breakfast, he headed to the door and opened it. Over the last few days, he was so used to seeing salespeople, that he started with the same speech.

“Sorry, we’re not interested in buying—”

Seeing who was standing there, he quickly stopped himself. “Ah, sorry.”

Of whom he expected, Professor McGonagall wasn’t one of them. Wearing bottle-green robes and looking out of place here, Vernon could see she’d already attracted the neighbours’ attention.

“Apology accepted. Might I borrow a moment of your time?” She glared at the aforementioned neighbours. “Away from inquisitive eyes and ears.”

Stepping out of the way in a silent invitation, he called Petunia. “A Professor from Hogwarts is here!”

“Well, I don’t want to speak to them! Make sure they say what’s necessary and leave!” 

As Professor McGonagall pursed her lips in displeasure, Vernon still held onto the vague hope that Petunia would one day warm to all this. She didn’t hate magic, just that she couldnt use it herself. Once they stepped into the living room and he shut the door, her countenance grew serious. In response, he straightened.

“Mr Dursley, Potter is in the Hospital Wing. He is unharmed,” she hurriedly added as he looked ready to sprint off, “just fatigued. I’m afraid that he got himself into a… predicament yesterday.”

“Involving that Philosopher’s Stone business,” Vernon stated.

“You know? Oh, never mind.” she sighed. “From Potter himself and the events of parent’s evening, I realise he is important to you. So, your knowledge is not surprising. I’m here to apparate you there to see him.”

As her gaze flickered towards their fireplace, she looked at it as if in contemplation. “Would you permit being connected to the floo network? As Potter has got himself into more trouble than most his age, it would be a more convenient contact method.”

Noticing his confusion, she explained what the floo network was and after some mild hesitation, agreed. For the moment, he would neglect to tell Petunia about this.

“Good, I will supply you with floo powder at a later date. For now, we will side-along apparate to Hogwarts’ Gates, another magical transportation method.”

Appreciative of her brief explanation beforehand, Vernon nodded. Once informing Petunia that he would be gone for a while and following the Professor’s instructions, he linked in with her.

“I’ll warn you now, apparition is unpleasant for those unused to it.”

Vernon grimaced as portkeys flashed through his mind. They were unpleasant enough, so would this be better or worse?

Moments later, he had his answer. Apparition was faster, but the sensation of being squeezed through something impossible to fit in would stay with him for a long time. While he kept his balance, the delicious breakfast he’d devoured recently threatened to resurface.

As a vial was held out, he looked at her. “For nausea.”

Gratefully accepting, he almost gagged at the foul taste, but instantly, his sickness vanished. By the day, he was learning how advanced this world was in some areas, compared to theirs.

After thanking her, they swiftly moved on, passing through the gates and making their way to the Hospital Wing. Trying to regulate his breathing, sweat pooled on his forehead, trickling down in rivulets. It seemed like an eternity of walking, but eventually, to his relief, the Hospital Wing was just ahead. Once stepping inside, a cool breeze hit him, drying his sweat-soaked body and clothes. Seeing Professor McGonagall put away her wand from the corner of his eye, he looked down at himself, impressed.

“Handy, that.” 

“Indeed.” Studying him with a glimmer of warmth in her eyes, they parted ways.

Leaving Vernon in the Hospital Wing, it didn’t take long to locate Harry. At the bed’s foot were various sweets and cards, his heart warming considerably when seeing this. Going to sit by his bedside, he watched over him for a short while. Offered a refreshment by Madam Pomfrey while there he sipped his water, grateful for the hydration.

Glancing up when he heard a new set of footsteps, garish coloured robes assaulted Vernon’s eyes, rapidly approaching. Looking up into the bespectacled gaze of Headmaster Dumbledore, his anger rushed forth.

“Ah Mr Dursley, it’s good to see you!” he smiled jovially. “Harry should awaken soon.”

“He should awaken soon? He shouldn’t be here in the first place!” Vernon snapped, his aches and pains temporarily fading as he shot to his feet.

“Be at ease, as you can see, he is perfectly fine,” Dumbledore tried, raising his hands as if in placation.

“Be at ease?!” he sputtered, momentarily speechless with his audacity. “If you hadn’t kept that bloody stone in this school of all places, this wouldn’t have happened!”

“Please, keep your voice down—”

“Well cast a blasted privacy spell then!” Vernon wildly waved his arms as if to replicate said spell casting. “Alakazam, Abracadabra, Open Sesame?!”

Looking thoroughly cowed, Dumbledore did as asked, immediately silencing the surrounding area.

As Harry gradually awakened, it wasn’t all the sweets and cards which he noticed first, but Uncle V and Professor Dumbledore. Unable to hear but see everything clearly, his Uncle viciously pointed at the source of his ire, his cheeks growing pinker beneath the onslaught.

“Mr Potter, how are you feeling?”

Distracted from watching their silent argument, Harry briefly checked himself over and glanced up at Madam Pomfrey. “I feel fine.”

“Good,” she nodded approvingly. “You’re free to leave, though I expect your Uncle will want to have a word first.”

Harry did too. He enjoyed his time at Hogwarts but missed not being able to see his Uncle as often. Sometimes, letters didn’t cut it. Though for now, he would have preferred different circumstances.

As the privacy charm was finally dispelled, they noticed Harry was awake. 

“Ah Harry, my boy, there is something that I must do,” Dumbledore hurriedly informed him. “Will you visit my office after speaking with your Uncle?”

Before he had time to respond, he exited at a speed belying his age.

Bemused, he watched him for a moment, until Vernon returned to his side. Again before he could respond, warm, pudgy arms pulled him into a firm embrace.

Surprised by his sudden initiation, Harry immediately returned it, their eyes locking as Vernon sat down again. Able to see and feel that he was alright, at least physically, it allowed him to reign in his anger. That was for Dumbledore alone. 

“Would you tell me what happened last night, in detail?” he asked, calmly.

Nodding in reply, Harry did so and once given more context, it was a struggle not to go with Harry to Dumbledore’s office and further give him a piece of his mind. If those defences were designed to protect the stone from adults, then how did three children successfully pass through? While he understood they moved it from Gringotts, surely they could have transported it to another branch?

Left with more questions than answers in one sense, the broom malfunction mystery was also solved. Vernon didn’t know everything that would arise from Harry having witnessed his defence Professor’s death but vowed to do all he could in supporting him. As an uncle, it was his duty.

As Harry’s 1st year at Hogwarts drew to a close, Vernon hoped next year wouldn’t be quite so lively.


	3. Vernon Dursley and The Chamber of Sunday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unfortunately, Harry's 2nd year was equally action-packed. House-elves, flying cars, incompetent professors and giant snakes, Uncle V was definitely in over his head. But he'd be there to support his nephew, every step of the way.

Sitting in his bedroom, Harry was startled from his thoughts by a pop. Sharply turning to the source, he saw the oddest creature and held back a surprised shout. Willing his racing heart to calm, they spoke. 

“Harry Potter must not be going to Hogwarts!” 

“Hang on. Who are you, why not?” he asked, urgently.

“My name is Dobby, Harry Potter Sir. Because it is dangerous!” 

Harry shook his head, confused. “But what kind of danger?”

“Dobby… can’t!”

Then Dobby violently banged his head against the nearby wardrobe. 

Alarmed, he immediately pulled him away. “Stop!”

“Harry?”

The moment he heard Uncle V’s voice, Dobby disappeared. 

As his bedroom door opened, Vernon questioned him. “Is everything alright? It sounded like you were talking to someone.”

“I was, but he… vanished. It was some sort of elf. He said his name was Dobby, and that I shouldn’t go back to Hogwarts this year, because it’s dangerous.”

Seeing his deadly serious expression, Vernon wondered if he was just invisible. “Dobby, is it? If you’re here, show yourself.”

With a faint pop, he reeled back in shock. It wasn’t like any elf that he’d imagined. 

“Right, Dobby,” he recovered, trying not to stare. “This… danger. Is it life-threatening?”

When Dobby nodded, Vernon sighed. “I see. Then, I’ll make sure he doesn’t attend this year.”

“But—”

He raised his hand to silence Harry. As Dobby glanced between them, he appeared satisfied. “Good.”

As he disappeared, a bundle of letters appeared on Harry’s bed. Recognising his friend’s handwriting, Dobby must have stopped their communication somehow. And then he caught on.

‘Did you tell Dobby that so he’d leave?’ Harry mouthed to him.

‘Yes,’ he mouthed back, speaking up for Dobby’s benefit. “The Masons are arriving in an hour, so wear your best outfit. Dudley will open the door, Petunia is hosting, and I will entertain. Can you serve us, Harry? After that, join in.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Are you telling that Japanese Golfer one?”

“Of course, that’s my best!” 

The rest of the evening was successful, the Masons warmed by their hospitality, and as a result, Vernon secured a future deal for his workplace.

* * *

Today, for the first time, Vernon took Harry to Diagon Alley. Standing in the brick doorway, once again, descriptions failed to do justice. 

As their world was filled with constantly evolving technology, the architecture here appeared untouched from throughout the ages. It was a far cry from polluted London and even their cookie-cutter streets. 

“So, what do you think?”

Brought from his thoughts by an excited Harry, it took a moment for him to find the right words.

“To sum it up? Magic.”

Grinning at his answer, Vernon held Harry’s letter and would check off what they purchased. Today, he would be in for the experience of a lifetime.

The experience of a lifetime was right, as well. Their first stop was Gringotts, finding the goblins just a little disturbing and unlike Harry, wasn’t a fan of how they moved between vaults. Truthfully, he was seeing a pattern between their travel methods and the risk of injury or death.

One by one they purchased what he needed, with Harry giving a running commentary on some things he remembered from his last trip here. Eventually, they had one place left to visit: Flourish and Blotts. 

Inspecting the book list, Vernon raised his eyebrows. “What are these? Children’s bedtime stories?” he stared at the titles, bewildered. “Gadding with Ghouls? Ridiculous!”

“I thought so as well,” Harry admitted, staring at the list warily. “I’m guessing they’re for Defence classes, which doesn’t fill me with confidence.”

Walking across the cobbled road to Flourish and Blotts, it was a struggle to head inside, flooded with witches of all ages and some wizards as well. Gradually making their way to the centre, someone waved at them. 

“Harry!” Ron yelled, with Hermione, her parents and the other Weasleys present.

With some effort, Harry and Vernon made their way over to stand by them.

“What’s going on?” Harry asked, speaking over the crowd. 

Ron rolled his eyes. “Some bloke called Gilderoy Lockhart is here. He’s signing copies of a book he wrote.”

“Magical Me,” Hermione supplied breathlessly, as Harry stared at her strangely.

“Oh yeah. Mum fancies him,” Ron added. “So does Hermione and every other female here.”

“I do not!” Hermione protested, blushing faintly while Mrs Weasley elbow-nudged him.

Curiously, Vernon glanced over at the source of all these camera flashes. And suddenly, the absurd book titles made sense. With golden blond hair that shone beneath the morning sunlight, Vernon wished he’d brought his sunglasses when faced with such obnoxiously bright white teeth. Oozing smarminess, it was it would require surgery to remove his head from his arse.

“I don’t know what’s so appealing about him,” Vernon muttered to Harry and Ron, eyeing him disdainfully. “The man’s full of himself.”

Suddenly, a cameraman pushed past them. “Out of the way! This is for the Daily Prophet!”

Clicking away, a loud, bright flash illuminated the room, Gilderoy looking its way and teeth smiling. Then he stopped, staring.

“It can’t be. Harry Potter?” 

As his eyes lit up with fame-hunger, Lockhart pulled him onto the platform. Before giving in to first instincts, Harry thought for a moment, calming himself. 

What would Uncle V do? Then he had the answer.

As Lockhart leaned closer, Harry wrenched himself free. “Do you always grab strangers?” he stared at him. “I’m sure that my pressing charges would make an interesting Daily Prophet headline. And if this happens again, I will.”

He was met with dead silence after hopping off the platform until Vernon started laughing.

“Excellent Harry, show that pompous airhead what for!” he clapped him on the shoulder as Lockhart floundered for a response.

“I, ah—” he stopped and started, flummoxed. “Of course Mr Potter, I apologise. That won’t be necessary.”

Lacking his usual exuberance, he eyed Harry warily while clearing his throat. “Ladies and gentleman, what an… unexpected moment this is. Little did young Harry here know that he would leave with my signed autobiography free of charge, but also, my entire collected works.”

Gathering a stack of books from just behind him, Lockhart held them out, practically dumping them once Harry accepted.

“Thank you,” Harry replied, showing him a polite, genuine smile that seemed to set the blond-haired wizard on edge.

Eventually, the signing was over and once heading out, Harry spotted Draco and presumably his father near them. Expecting them to say something, it surprised him when a calculating look was thrown his way, with the elder Malfoy coldly inclining his head. What was that about?

In the bustling chaos, they all missed a diary being slipped into Ginny’s cauldron.

* * *

“Blast it all, move!” Vernon shouted out of the wound down car window, angrily honking his horn.

Silently, Harry looked out of his side. They were caught in a traffic jam, with a mile of cars behind and several in front. 

They’d set off early, Harry never liked to be late and Vernon more so, but neither could have predicted just how congested the roads would be. He hoped they wouldn’t be too late, but looking at the time, his anxiety rose.

Leaning forward in his seat with frustration, Vernon’s expression softened somewhat when glimpsing his nephew’s expression.

“Don’t worry, I’ll get you there, even if I have to drive up to Scotland myself!”

Luckily for them, wouldn’t be necessary as finally; they were free to move. Reaching King’s Cross with no more obstructions, they parked up, Harry jumping out of the passenger seat to grab his trunk and Hedwig’s empty cage from the boot. 

Together, Harry and Vernon moved quickly, with four minutes until the Hogwarts Express arrived. Skidding onto the platforms, Harry sprinted towards 9 and 10, seeing a familiar redhead.

“Come on, before the train leaves without us!” Ron shouted, anxious. “We arrived late as well. I told mum I’d wait for you.”

“Good, we’ve made it,” Vernon huffed, catching up with Harry as his cheeks flushed from exertion. “There’s still time. Go now, have a good year.”

As Harry and Ron lined up one after the other, they rushed towards the barrier—

Only to crash into it, toppling over one another.

“Don’t mind us, they’re just practising dramatics for their school play!” Vernon told the passersby who’d stopped to stare.

As Harry and Ron righted themselves, they looked at the barrier, horrified when the clock chimed.

“Why is it shut?! We’ve missed the train!” Ron moaned, palming his face. “Wait. If we’re stuck here, what if mum and dad can’t get back?”

As his mind raced a mile a minute, Harry responded, suddenly feeling calmer despite their situation. “Well, how did you get here?”

“Dad drove.” Then Ron stopped, his eyes widening. “Hang on, the car! We can fly there!”

Vernon’s mind stuttered to a halt. “... Your car flies? Like Chitty Chitty Bang Bang?”

Ron tilted his head, confused. “Yeah, it does. But what’s Chitty Chitty Bang Bang?”

“I’ll tell you later, we have to go now!” Harry interrupted and before Vernon could say a word, they ran off.

As the adult here, Vernon knew what to do. Waiting by the car was the most logical choice, as they’d have to return for it. They intended to fly to Hogwarts. It was dangerous, foolish, even. But when else could Vernon ever say he’d been in a flying car? 

So, abandoning all sense, he quickly headed after Harry and Ron.

Once they arrived at Arthur’s car, Vernon whistled low. “A Ford Anglia? Marvellous. Don’t worry boys, I’ll get you there.”

Packing their belongings into the boot, Vernon sat in the driver’s seat with Harry at the front and Ron in the back. Leaning over, the redhead tapped his wand on the dashboard.

“It takes magic to start,” Ron explained, leaning back as the Anglia’s engine hummed with activity.

“Fascinating…” Vernon stared for a moment. “Is there something that’ll hide us while in flight?”

“Oh, yeah!” Ron slapped his head. “I forgot. It’s that tiny button, there.”

Pointing to one by the dashboard, Vernon checked his surroundings, pressing it. Suddenly, they became invisible.

“All we have to do is follow the train,” Vernon explained, his calm, in turn, settling the boys down.

With his driving knowledge and some help from Ron, they were soon airborne. Hovering further and further into the air, they slowly set off, keeping their eyes peeled for that familiar, bright red engine.

As Vernon kept his eyes on the sky, Harry explained Chitty Chitty Bang Bang to Ron while glancing at everything below him.

“Look, there’s the train!” Harry pointed to the tracks and from there, it was plain sailing. 

With the boy’s idle chatter washing over him, it was hard for Vernon to keep his eyes straight ahead, as he was so fascinated by the concept of a flying car. It went against everything they knew, and from up here; the view was extraordinary.

For a long while, Vernon drove behind the train as guided by Harry and Ron, suspecting that he was beaming like a madman right now. But he couldn’t help it. Never in his wildest dreams would he have thought to do this. If not for his passengers, he might have been tempted to try a barrel roll or loop de loop.

As the sky gradually darkened, Hogwarts came into view. Only this time, it appeared like an abandoned ruin. He wondered if it was because he was approaching it himself? Saving those questions for later Vernon found a patch of grass to land on and while somewhat bumpy, they did stutter to a halt. 

“Well, there you are! We arrived at exactly the right time. Though I’ll have to follow you two until I find a Professor. I have one or two apologies to make, alongside returning a car.”

Glancing over at his Uncle’s flushed cheeks and a twinkle in his eye, Harry had the feeling that he wasn’t too sorry. For worrying Mr and Mrs Weasley maybe, but the rest was doubtful.

All in all, things went smoother than they expected. The headmaster, having detected their presence, only issued a mild reprimand as they weren’t spotted. Molly and Arthur were fine as well, the former so excited about their adventure that the latter simply sighed, smiling at her husband interacting with his first muggle friend. 

What happened today would be one of the best experiences of his life. In the future, Vernon gave his word of no more impromptu trips.

* * *

_Uncle V,_

_How are you? Thanks for driving us to Hogwarts, you’re the best._

_Lockhart is our new Professor. It’s something I kind of expected but hoped it wouldn’t be the case._

_What’s Headmaster Dumbledore thinking? Our first class had 50 questions about his book collection! I mean, how self-centred can you get? It’s frustrating, and I’m already hoping that next year we get someone good._

_The next quidditch match is soon, so I’ll see you there?_

_Love, Harry_

When Vernon received that letter, his heart sank. It was clear looking at him he was no Professor and yet, Dumbledore hired him. Why? Displeased would put it mildly. But at least there was Harry’s quidditch match to look forward to.

The portkey ride was still unpleasant, but this time, Vernon kept his balance. As they checked his name off, he made his way up to the visitor’s stand, appreciating when a seat was saved by Molly. 

He’d thought Harry’s first match was tense, but this was something else. To his horror, the bludgers seemed intent on following him around and at one point, he even dropped below the stands. With his arm outstretched for the snitch, he caught it, only for one bludger to slam into him.

“Harry!” Vernon bellowed, wishing he had the magic to do some sort of hocus pocus.

As the crowd gasped, he fell off his broom and, with nimble dodging, males collectively winced for where one bludger aimed. But before anything else could happen, they were struck with a disabling spell.

Gryffindor won, but the pitch was silent. Immediately Vernon shot to his feet, running down the stairs. As several people rushed over to Harry, including Lockhart, his heart froze over.

‘No, don’t let that idiot near him!’ Vernon thought, desperate.

As Lockhart pointed his wand at Harry’s arm, he rendered it an odd shape.

Rushing onto the pitch, he ignored the pain in his side, as Madam Pomfrey came, levitating him away on a stretcher. He vaguely heard Hagrid’s words.

**There're no bones left!**

And then he turned to the culprit. Seeing red, Lockhart squeaked as Vernon roughly grabbed his robes.

“You removed Harry’s arm bones?! What kind of wizard are you? Imbecile!” he barked, each word causing Lockhart to shrink into his robes.

“W-Well, I was fairly confident it would work.” 

Vernon’s temple throbbed. “Fairly confident? Dumbledore!” The headmaster jumped. “If you don’t sack him, there’ll be hell to pay!”

Giving them a piece of his mind followed by a swift punch to his face before heading to the hospital wing, he hesitantly returned home once assured by Madam Pomfrey that Harry would be fine.

* * *

To his disgust, Lockhart wasn’t sacked. While that was a problem that he intended to address, something else troubled him currently. In a recent letter, Harry shared the enormous bulk of this year’s adventure, enough to make his head spin. In future cases, he would remind Harry to share gradually, so his blood pressure would remain normal.

About to put his recently maintained shotgun away, Vernon had plenty of ammo as well if needed, studying the pack in his hand in contemplation. 

No sooner had that thought crossed his mind when an odd sensation overtook him. And then, as Petunia entered the living room, he disappeared.

“Vernon?!” she shrieked, so shocked that she collapsed into his vacated armchair.

Anxiously, all she could do was wait.

“What?!” Vernon shouted, feeling as though he were inside a large sack. 

Unable to see anything, he heard noises echoing around what sounded like a large room. Before he could comprehend what was happening, he was dropped to the floor and released. 

Now hearing a high-pitched shriek, Harry’s voice distracted him.

“Uncle Vernon?!”

Lifting the thing off his head enough to see by, he saw Harry’s shocked, grubby face and just behind him, an orange bird blinding the creature he was hearing.

Flabbergasted, his mouth dropped open. “What the bloody hell is that?!”

“A Basilisk, it’s like a giant snake,” Harry explained, unable to keep the fear and urgency from his tone.

Alright. Not allowing himself to panic, Vernon gripped his shotgun determinedly. “Harry, run. I’ll deal with it.”

Looking between him and the basilisk, Harry hesitated.

“Go!”

Nodding fearfully at his insistence, he sprinted away.

Quickly Vernon loaded his shotgun, aiming point-blank. As the basilisk opened its mouth, the shotgun spray struck, toppling it to the ground in a thunderous crash.

Eventually hearing small footsteps from behind, Harry joined him again, awed. “I have no idea how you came out of the sorting hat, but it was good timing.”

He came out of what? Then he realised what was still on his head. Glancing up in bewilderment, Harry quickly ran over to the basilisk corpse. Picking up a fang shot loose, he ran over to the diary, stabbing clean through it.

Vernon was so caught up in the sudden action, he missed a corporeal figure who soon disappeared, but noticed an unconscious Ginny gradually awakening.

As Fawkes flew over to land on Harry’s shoulder, he filled his Uncle in enough to know what was currently going on. After heading back to Ron and the Obliviated Lockhart, the phoenix returned them to the surface. 

What followed was a whirl of events, enough that all he did was glare when seeing Dumbledore again. With Harry, Ron and Vernon awarded services to the school, freeing Dobby and leaving Lockhart in their care, Harry’s 2nd year came to a close.

Truly, was it too much to hope for a normal year? When Vernon subconsciously patted his shotgun, that in itself was the answer.

But another question remained. Why did this have to happen on a Sunday?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope my memes make you smile! It's what we sorely need after this year.


	4. Vernon Dursley and The Crackpot of Azkaban

“To produce a Patronus requires powerful, happy memories. They must fill you up, then shine externally.”

After Professor Lupin’s words, Harry gripped his wand with renewed purpose. He’d tried a few memories, having little success. Frowning thoughtfully while smoothing back wayward hair, the watch on his lowered wrist shimmered beneath the candlelight. 

His eyes widened, an idea striking him. Of course! His watch had been through many adventures as, even when apart, some of his Uncle remained. That would do it.

“Can I try again?” Harry looked at Professor Lupin, determination burning in his emerald gaze.

After some thought, he nodded. “Alright, one more try.”

Another try was all he needed. Allowing the memory to well within him, Harry mentally captured the moment in detail. 

_‘That, Harry, is a Grand Seiko watch,’ he told him, puffing his chest out with pride. ‘It’s one of the finest ever made and a mark of good taste and adulthood. You’re growing into a fine young man, one that I’m proud to call my nephew.’_

As Professor Lupin opened the chest again, Harry readied himself. The memory loop ended and with it, an emotion of incredible intensity bubbled inside, containing lava energy.

“Expecto Patronum!” Harry cried, shakily gripping his wand with both hands due to the sheer power of what emerged.

It brightened the classroom considerably while transforming into—

His Uncle.

Standing there in all his 5’ 9 glory, Patronus-Vernon glared at the Dementor. Shaking his fists, Harry laughed in surprised delight when he gave it, ‘The old one-two’. After those quick punches, the Dementor was defeated with Patronus-Vernon fading.

“Marvellous Harry, well done!” Professor Lupin praised him, amber eyes alight with excitement. “50 points to Gryffindor.” Handing over another chocolate piece, he secured the boggart away. “I’ve never seen a human Patronus.” 

Basking in the glow of victory, Harry sat down on the nearby step. “Is it that rare?” 

“Usually, animals resonate with us much more. So seeing this, it’s quite remarkable.” Joining Harry on the step, he glanced at him with curiosity. “If it isn’t too personal, what was the memory?”

“My 11th birthday.” A smile lit up his face. “We kept getting Hogwarts acceptance letters and moved to this hut on the sea. Even then, Uncle Vernon still remembered my birthday.”

Harry raised his watch hand. “He got me this, saying he was proud to call me his nephew.”

“I can see how important this memory is to you.” Professor Lupin smiled softly. “So, that’s who your Patronus is?”

“Yeah,” he replied quietly, withholding a yawn. Once able to, he’d show Uncle V what he’d achieved today.

Talking for a short while, then saying goodbye to Professor Lupin, Harry headed back to his common room.

* * *

Vernon reclined into his armchair after a long workday, sighing blissfully. Was it his imagination, or was he not so wedged between the arms? 

He glimpsed over at Petunia, sitting on the sofa. “Do you think I’ve lost weight?” 

Her attention was taken from the game show as she studied him closely, nodding. “Yes, you should consider buying new clothes.”

The moment he beamed with satisfaction, they jumped out of their skins when suddenly; the fireplace sparked. 

“What on earth…” Vernon murmured, his eyes widening comically when from within, a face materialised. Blinking in case he was seeing things, it remained unchanging. 

“What’s that?!” Petunia shrieked, her nails digging into the sofa arm.

Then he remembered. In a lapse of judgement, Vernon forgot to say someone connected them to the floo network. “Last year, I agreed on a ‘floo network’ connection.” He awkwardly cleared his throat. “Harry’s head of house told me it would be easier to contact us that way.”

“You agreed to this?!” she hissed. “What if a neighbour visits and that happens?”

“If I may make a suggestion, Mrs Dursley?” A well-known voice emanated from the fireplace. “Password activation is possible. If it’s safe to do so, speak, and it will forward the call. If not, we’ll try again later.”

“Dumbledore! What on earth do you want now?” Petunia glared at the flickering, fiery face. “Is it not enough that you dumped a child on our doorstep?”

In response, the eyes behind a pair of heat-coated spectacles dulled. “I wish to speak to your husband if that is permitted.”

“... Fine. Vernon, can we talk about this later?”

Upon confirming that he would, she left them alone.

Dumbledore got straight to the point. “Mr Dursley, I need you to come to Hogwarts.”

“Is Harry in danger?” Vernon stiffened, pinning him beneath a steely glare. “What the devil have you got him into now?”

“The same adventures Harry often finds himself in,” he answered evasively. “But this time, you must be here. I’ll meet you outside now, to apparate.”

One of these days, should he be allowed without possible legal consequences, Vernon would like to strangle him using his overly long beard. 

Opting to retrieve his shotgun and its holster, Vernon slung it over one shoulder. Finding Petunia and letting her know what was happening, he stepped outside, finding Dumbledore waiting for him. 

Did he know nothing about subtlety? Bright purple robes patterned with shimming silver moons weren’t his idea of blending in.

Noticing the shotgun, Dumbledore frowned. “That’s unnecessary, Mr Dursley. You’re safe at Hogwarts.”

Vernon snorted so loudly that his moustache threatened to blow off. “Safe? How is a giant bloody snake in your school chamber safe? Not to mention a Sorting Hat transported me there, of all things! If I want to bring my shotgun, which, against you lot, is my magic wand, I damned well will!”

Dumbledore acquiesced sadly. “Very well.”

Unphased by his demeanour Vernon touched his arm where, surprisingly, apparating didn’t seem as bad. Reappearing elsewhere, the skies were overcast with grey’s gloom as a towering, distorted tree stood starkly against the murkiness.

“What sort of tree is this?” Vernon murmured.

“That is the Whomping Willow, sentient in a sense. Within lies the shrieking shack where Harry and his friends are.”

He realised it did appear to be moving autonomously, its knobbly, thick branches flailing around in the biting breeze.

“What’s happening, exactly? Why am I needed here?” 

“Only time will tell,” was Dumbledore’s irritatingly cryptic reply.

“Listen here,” Vernon pointed one meaty finger at him, causing the bespectacled man to go cross-eyed, “If you don’t answer me properly, I will shove this shotgun up your—”

“I cannot discuss the details yet,” he hastily cut him off. “It would disrupt current events.”

As Vernon’s hands twitched in response, he sighed. “Fine. However, I will demand a full explanation once this farce is over.”

Nodding, perhaps for placations’ sake or otherwise, Dumbledore, with a single, concentrated wand wave, froze the whomping willow.

“Go, it will remain inactive for a while.”

Readying his shotgun, Vernon warily made his way over and headed inside. Thick, gnarled willow roots weaved themselves through the earth, latching on and devouring what drop of moisture melded in. Taking his time with an evenly paced footing, raised voices caught his attention. 

“Why don’t you run along and play with your chemistry set?!” a strangely familiar man shouted.

“I could do it, you know,” Snape replied, someone Vernon did unfortunately know. “But why deny the Dementors? They’re so longing to see you.”

A sharp intake of breath.

“Do I detect a flicker of fear?” he continued, pleasure twisted through his tone. “Oh yes, a Dementor’s Kiss. One can only imagine what that must be like. It’s said to be nearly unbearable to witness, but I’ll do my best.” 

“Severus, please!” A third, also familiar, voice protested. 

As they gradually grew louder, he forcefully withheld a sneeze while reaching the doorway. 

“After you,” Snape sneered, his wand pointed at someone.

Vernon made a split-second decision. Before anyone could react, Snape received a shotgun butt to the back of his head. Dropping like a fly and slumping down unconscious, a cloud of dust rose around him.

“Mr Dursley, you attacked a teacher!” Hermione exclaimed, hands clapping over her mouth.

Ron grinned weakly, studying his unconscious form. “Nice.”

“Ron!”

“I was about to do something myself,” Harry admitted, rubbing the back of his dirt coated head. “Uncle Vernon, what are you doing here?” 

“That’s what I’d like to know,” Vernon sighed, wondering what mess Dumbledore had thrown them into. “Dumbledore contacted me through the floo network, dithering about and saying that I needed to help you. The next thing I know, I’m here!”

“Who are you?” he looked at a kind-eyed man, then another who’d seen better days. “And who’s this crackpot?”

“I would take offence to that if it wasn’t true.” The scruffy-haired man chuckled hoarsely. 

After introductions were made, Harry inhaled, relieved. “Regardless, I’m glad to see you.”

His smile lingered for a long moment, then turned his attention to Remus. “Tell me about Peter.”

“He was at school with us. We thought he was our friend,” he explained, looking more tired than ever.

Vernon, having stepped inside, silently watched. Nearby, Hermione gave him a sidelong glance. Flickering between him, then Harry, Remus and Sirius, she made a come hither motion.

“Hi Mr Dursley, I wish we could talk under better circumstances, but…” shrugging, she quickly filled him in. 

“Thank you, Hermione. You’re welcome to call me Vernon by the way, Mr Dursley makes me feel old.” 

At that thought, he grimaced. He supposed that 41 was considered older, but often; he felt much younger. 

“Alright… Vernon.” Hermione winced, unused to how it sounded.

It was moments later that Vernon got the shock of his life. Sirius pointed at Ron’s rat, insisting it was human. Positive that he’d lost the plot, he eventually handed it over upon Harry’s encouragement. Before his disbelieving eyes, the rat transformed into a rat-like human. 

Briefly, within his blank mind, he recalled Harry telling him about Professor McGonagall being able to do this as well. However, seeing it himself was terrifying and amazing, all at once. 

From what Vernon could gather, Sirius was framed. This Wormtail fellow, the real criminal. After a couple of argumentative exchanges, he was bound and made to walk ahead of them all.

As they eventually exited the shrieking shack, he noticed him struggling against the bindings.

“Say,” he approached Remus. “Can’t you do a freezing spell on him?”

He rubbed his forehead, making it clear this hadn’t occurred. “I can. Thank you, Vernon. May I call you that?”

“By all means,” he encouraged, pleased to be addressed as such from the start.

As Harry and Sirius spoke away from the group Vernon spared them a glance, then watched as Remus stunned Wormtail. When finished, he smiled at him warmly.

It was then that it clicked for Vernon. Years ago, he had met them, but they’d spoken very little.

Remus then addressed him, as if knowing what crossed his mind. “I’m not sure if you remember me or Sirius, but we have met. Back when the times were far simpler.”

“Both of you were vaguely familiar to me, but I only realised just now,” Vernon admitted, somewhat ashamed at the late realisation. “So, you’re Harry’s defence Professor?”

“I am. I enjoyed getting to know Harry as well. He reminds me more of Lily.” His eyes swam nostalgically. “Though, that adventurous streak is all James.”

All Vernon could do was nod. He never really knew Lily and James. And in many ways, raising Harry was an apology for not doing better.

Shaking those morose thoughts away, this was a chance to help put things right. “In the future, you’re welcome to visit us. Sirius too, once all this framed business is finished with.”

Holding out one hand to shake, some of Vernon’s tension dissipated, bringing forth a welcoming smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Remus.”

Remus shook his proffered hand firmly. “And you, Vernon.”

Suddenly Remus’ expression tightened, as did the hand around him momentarily. Releasing it, he moaned, clutching his head in pain.

Hearing the commotion, Sirius rushed to Remus’ side. “Have you taken your potion tonight? Remember the man you are, Remus!” Sirius clutched his arms, anxious.

Not understanding what was happening but sensing the danger, Vernon stood in front of the trio, shotgun at the ready.

Before their eyes, Remus changed shape. Hearing the hollow sound of bones snapping and skin stretching over a taut, shifting face, Vernon was too horrified to look away. Clutching his shotgun tightly, pained screams shifted to howls, as midnight’s moon hung solemnly over them.

“There you are!”

Looking enraged, Professor Snape emerged from the whomping willow, his hair and cloak dust-coated.

“Not now!” Vernon snapped, his voice wavering with uncertainty. “We have a problem!”

About to unleash a tirade of acerbic retorts, he stopped, a mournful howl piercing the air. With his pale skin already paling further, Sirius transformed before their eyes, a shaggy dog fighting a large, strong werewolf.

As the werewolf’s dark eyes flashed, it eyed Vernon and the trio, meaning to rush them.

“You three, cover your ears!” He ordered, and with seconds to spare, fired a warning shot.

As the deafening sound reverberated through the area, the werewolf startled, whimpering and running towards the forest with Sirius on his heels.

“Sirius!” Harry shouted, calling out desperately and sprinting off after them.

“Harry, no!” Vernon yelled, panic seeping into him. 

Forcing himself to think quickly, he looked at Professor Snape in seriousness. “I know we don’t see eye to eye, but look after Ron, Hermione and that Wormtail blighter, please. I’m going after them.”

And with that, possible snide retorts died. Nodding once, that was all Vernon needed.

Nothing mattered to him but getting to Harry, running as fast as he could. Everything blurred, the scenery, the stitch in his side, his legs screaming to stop, but he didn’t. He pushed through the agony, catching mere glimpses of him until, panting frantically, he arrived at the great lake.

Something was horribly wrong. Vernon couldn’t sense what, but the air, these surroundings, suddenly seemed so much darker, gloomier. And there, lying on the floor, was Sirius, the air visibly distorted around him.

Confused and fearful, he saw Harry nearby, shaking and panic-stricken as he withdrew his wand to fight something.

“Sirius!” he cried out again, fumbling and trying to concentrate. But all he could produce was a white light.

Vernon didn’t know what was happening or why, but he would help, in whatever way possible. Quickly approaching him, he spoke through pants with alarming urgency. “What’s happening?!”

Wide-eyed, Harry gripped his shoulders. “You shouldn’t be here, it’s dangerous! You can’t see them, but there are Dementors all around us! Go!” 

“No, I’m not leaving you here! What do you have to do?” 

Seeing the stubbornness in his eyes, Harry released his grip, defeated. “A Patronus, I practised them with Professor Lupin. But there’s so many, I don’t know if I can…”

Vernon shook his head vehemently. “You can do it, Harry.” Clenching his fist, he brought it against his chest. “You’re capable of so much and I believe in you, with all I have.”

As the sky darkened ominously, goosebumps rose on their skin as the temperature dropped. Reading each other’s expression for a split second, he inhaled and with it, some confidence returned. “... Ok.”

As Harry stood just behind Sirius, Vernon did with Harry, firmly gripping his shoulders.

A tiny, light ball emerged from Sirius’ mouth. Forcefully pushing away his climbing panic and allowing Uncle V’s warmth to rush into his chilled bones, Harry combined it all. The memory that produced Patronus-Vernon, his utmost confidence, belief and love for him and that he was here with him right now, despite everything.

Subconsciously his eyes had closed and upon reopening, they sparked with immense power. Surging through his fingertips and flowing to every part of him, he let go.

“Expecto Patronum!”

While one could see danger and the other couldn’t, both witnessed an extraordinary feat of magic on this full moon night. 

A blinding white light erupted from Harry’s wand with so much force that he would fall if not for Vernon’s grip on him. Squinting against the glare, it grew, obscuring everything within their vision until metamorphosing into a giant Patronus Vernon.

“What…” Vernon breathed, stunned, as even in magic form, he would recognise the back of that well-combed head anywhere.

Feeling Harry tremble violently within his grip, Patronus Vernon swung one giant fist and with one punch, repelled many of the Dementors swarming them. After finishing with a second punch, it blasted the rest back.

As if to stand guard over them all, he remained there for a long moment, then vanished, leaving them in midnight’s glow again.

Studying the skies intently, Harry breathed a long, exhausted and relieved sigh when Dementors no longer swarmed the air. Vernon could breathe easier, with the air thinner and not so oppressing.

As Sirius’ soul lowered back into his chest, he gasped, his chest spasming for a moment, then falling still. As Vernon kneeled by his side, Harry weakly slid to the ground on his other side.

“I’m glad… he’s… ok.”

Unable to stay awake any longer, he fell unconscious.

Upon checking over both of them and being assured that they were just unconscious, Vernon was about to try and make his way back for help but spotted someone.

When Headmaster Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall arrived on the scene, the latter provided an explanation.

“Professor Snape alerted the Headmaster of what was happening, and as I was present at the time, I came with him. As we speak, Peter Pettigrew is being held at the Ministry.”

Seeing that she looked frazzled by this whole situation, Vernon couldn’t blame her. Dumbledore, however, didn’t appear to be affected.

Glad for their help, Sirius and Harry were levitated and in much less time than expected, were seen to inside the Hospital Wing, alongside Ron.

As promised, Dumbledore filled him in on the details requested. Time-Turners? Just when Vernon believed the concept of magic could grow no more shocking, the ability to watch your past self was possible.

However, he was happy knowing that an innocent man, after so long, would eventually be freed. Nothing angered Vernon more than incompetence in law-based systems. He intended to keep his word, as well. Sirius and Remus could visit Harry where they wished, as it would be nice for him to have wizarding family close to him.

As adventure and danger appeared commonplace in Harry’s life, Vernon simply braced himself for whatever else was to come, rather than hoping for a more peaceful year. Because where his nephew was involved, it was very much to expect the unexpected.


End file.
